


Pulling Teeth

by spectacular_sociopath



Category: Sherlock (TV)
Genre: Dentist AU, M/M, Parentlock, dentist!sherlock, patient!John
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2015-03-07
Updated: 2015-04-17
Packaged: 2018-03-16 18:50:24
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 5
Words: 7,613
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3499091
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/spectacular_sociopath/pseuds/spectacular_sociopath
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>John had always hated going to the dentist. Ever since he was a little boy, he’d hated it. But this time's different. This trip to the dentist was one that he'd never forget.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Okay, this is my first fic so please don't judge me if it's terrible. I'd never really considered writing something like this but it seemed like a good idea when I was writing it late last night.... Anyway, enough said and please enjoy :)

John had always hated going to the dentist. Ever since he was a little boy, he’d hated it. It was the taste of the rubber gloves. And the squeakiness of the chair. And how close they had to get to his face despite the use of the ridiculous glasses that they wore. And did he mention the taste of the gloves? He’d got out of going for as long as he could but recently he’d obviously been complaining about pain in one of his wisdom teeth a little too much for Stamford’s liking and he had made him promise to book an appointment.

After he’d managed to get the dim-witted receptionist to understand that yes, he really did want a late afternoon appointment and not one at 8am, he had a date and time set. A week on Tuesday at 5:45pm. He’d drop by after work. Who knows, he may even get the pleasure of meeting the unintelligent, grumpy receptionist in person. Wouldn't that just be a joy.

The rest of John’s week and the whole of his weekend was ruined by the knowledge that, on Tuesday, he would have a stranger poking about in his mouth with those nasty gloves. If treating patients with genital warts, an ‘armpit that won’t stop itching’, vomiting bugs and the inevitable self-diagnosed brain tumour hadn't been enough to put a downer on his week then his steadily approaching dentist visit was doing the trick. He was a doctor, for god’s sake. He shouldn't be afraid of a little trip to the dentist’s. And yet, however many times he told himself this, he still dreaded it as though something truly horrific was going to happen.

Even going on the date he’d had planned with Jenny for weeks didn't lighten John’s mood and Jenny had seemed perfect. They’d been dating for some time now but John had been really looking forward to this particular afternoon because it would combine two of his favourite things and who better to share them with than Jenny. They went to the rugby together and got Chinese after. They’d had great conversation and John had managed to steer his thoughts away from the terror waiting for him on Tuesday in the form of a plastic-covered reclined chair and rubber gloves that he could still remember the taste of from when he’d last gone.  Ordinarily, a date like the one he’d just had with Jenny would have been the only thing John could think about for a good long while. Not this time. As soon as he had walked Jenny back to her apartment and kissed her goodnight, thoughts of scalpels and drills prodding his teeth were floating around in his head. It was silly really that a man of his age should be so afraid of the simple act of going to the dentist but that thought did nothing to calm him down. By the time that Tuesday came around, John had exhausted himself with thoughts of dental drills and broken teeth. Surely it couldn't be as bad as he was imagining, could it?

* * *

It took a couple of minutes of irritated glances and tutting from the overly made-up middle aged woman behind the counter for John to realise that he’d been vigorously tapping his foot. His muttered apology seemed to do nothing to help her irritation as she simply moved on to glaring at the woman sat opposite John for breathing a little too heavily. John decided to try to take his mind off his impending doom hidden behind the surgical mask of a dentist by reading one of the leaflets sat on the table beside him. That was a bad idea. Before it occurred to him that it would be dentistry related, he’d already flipped it open and got an eyeful of the photographs inside. The disasters that had been made of people’s mouths were certainly not what John wanted to be looking at right now. Trust him to pick up a leaflet on dentistry gone wrong. Why would you even have that in a dentist’s waiting room? He hurriedly tossed the leaflet aside and grabbed for another in the hope of something better. No such luck. More images of missing teeth and inflamed, off-coloured gums joined the ones previously branded onto John’s brain.

Some kind of groan of misery must have squeezed its way out of John’s mouth during all of this because he was suddenly aware that he'd become the focal point of everybody in the waiting room. Another unintentional sound jumped out when he realised but this time it was a shaky, high-pitched laugh which John was sure he’d be embarrassed about just as soon as he was done being scared for both his life and his sanity.

His worries weren't helped by the sudden appearance of a short, stumpy looking man with what could only be described as a gleeful grin on his face. No one should look that cheerful straight after yanking some poor person’s teeth out. The stout man pulled his glasses down a robust nose to take a look at his clipboard. John was silently praying to himself that it wouldn't be his name that was called. He was wary of any dentists but this one looked like he was downright enjoying himself and that just wouldn't do. In that moment, he didn't even care who his dentist was so long as it wasn't this guy.

John was so caught up in desperately hoping that his name wouldn't be the one to come out of the mouth of the inappropriately jolly man in front of him that he missed what was said entirely. For a split second, when nobody moved, he thought it was him and was ready to bolt out of the door and never return. After another second of mindless panic, John became aware of the woman across the room with the heavy breathing from earlier rising from her seat and following the dentist out of the door. A triumphant puff of air sprang from John’s lips more loudly that he may have liked and, once again, the attention of the room was drawn to him. This time, however, it didn't bother him because he knew that he wasn't the one that was going to be robbed of his teeth joyfully by the chubby little man that had just trundled out of the room. Not yet at least.

John was tugged out of his uncomfortable bubble of agitation by the reverberation of a deep and imposing male voice around the poster covered waiting room walls. On hearing it, John promptly forgot to be nervous along with what he was doing in the waiting room in the first place. The voice called for his next patient but once again, John didn't hear who was being called. This time, however, it was for a different reason. He was trying, with no avail, to envisage the person behind the voice that had magically managed to make him forget his biggest fear in the blink of an eye.

He must have been sitting in silence for some time because when he looked up, he noticed that the waiting room was empty aside from him, the receptionist and two others. There was an old man who seemed to have fallen asleep and a woman who looked about thirty, clutching her jaw. John wanted to go and try to comfort her but he was frozen in his seat when he remembered that that could be him in just a few short minutes. Glancing up at the clock, he saw that it was 5:57 and wondered what was taking so long. Being kept waiting was doing nothing for his nerves and he just wanted to be anywhere but in this little stuffy waiting room.

While he was thinking, it had occurred to John that, out of the two dentists working, the stumpy one seemed to be getting through his patients significantly quicker than the other dentist. Now, this in itself seemed like a good reason to worry. Why should one take so much longer than the other? What was the one with the beautiful voice doing to his patients that took twice as long as a normal appointment? After this thought, John didn't want to be called by either dentist.

He was still pondering upon the appearance of the dentist with the miraculously calming voice when the door swung wide open. Once again, panic rose up in John’s throat and just as he was standing up to walk out of the surgery, the magnificent voice rang out again and John stopped in his tracks.

“John Watson?”


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So here's the next chapter, I hope you're all excited for it ;D  
> Forgive any mistakes in the speech but if you see any in the chapter, do let me know so I can change them :)  
> Enjoy :)

Slowly, John became aware of a hand moving back a forth in front of his face. It was a very nice hand, he noticed. Large, pale skinned and tipped with some of the longest fingers John had ever seen; not disproportionately long but just the right length to be mesmerising. John could feel his head bobbing from side to side, eyes trained on the captivating fingers.

There was something else. The voice. It was back. John promptly stopped the movement of his head so that he could listen for the source of the extraordinary sound. He jolted his head to face the direction the noise was coming from and his eyes met a set of indescribably astounding ones. Blue? Green? Gold? Brown? All of the above? John settled for gorgeous and continued to gaze into them as if trying to uncover their true colour. Just as he felt himself leaning forward a little, the hand in front of him started waving a little closer to his face.

He was distracted from the eyes of the man but was suddenly aware of the entire figure stood before him. Well, the entire figure that wasn’t covered by a long, white lab coat. John’s eyes swept over what was visible of the man’s form ending with the white shoed foot tapping impatiently on the shiny linoleum floor. In that instant, it occurred to John that the man in the coat was obviously irritated by being kept waiting. Peeking up from the shoes of the dentist, John noticed that he was significantly taller than him and finally got the chance to look over his face. It was all angles. Sat on top of a sharp jaw line and on a canvas of seemingly flawless skin were wonderfully rounded lips with a perfect cupid’s bow, a straight, elegant nose and a pair of the strongest cheekbones John had ever seen. Contrasting beautifully with the pale, almost pasty skin, was a mass of ink-black hair wildly framing the sides of the man’s face and nestled just below a pair of thick, dark eyebrows were the ineffably striking eyes, staring at him expectantly. There was a sharp click just in front of John’s face, breaking him out of his trance and making him aware that the dentist was, in fact, talking to him.

“Are you John Watson?” came the voice slowly, as if speaking to a child.

All John could manage was a short bewildered nod of his head which prompted a muttered “Excellent.” from the dentist. ‘Doctor Holmes’, as his badge said, made a sweeping gesture with his hand which John took as an indication to start towards the door. Once both him and Doctor Holmes were outside, the door slammed shut behind them and the taller man, without a word, strode off in the direction of a door at the end of the corridor, John hurrying after him.

The smell of the room they entered made John remember all of the reasons why he hadn’t wanted to come. Everything smelled like the gloves. The dreaded gloves. Brow furrowing in worry once again, John shuffled towards the chair in the centre of the small room.

“No need to look so scared, dear!”

John jumped at the sound of another voice in the room but relaxed somewhat when he saw the kind smile of the woman it had come from.

“Sherlock’s the best dentist you could hope for.” She piped up, happily, “You’re in good hands.”

“Thank you, Mrs Hudson” said the dentist with a dismissive wave of his now gloved right hand, “Do take a seat, John, so we can get started. May I call you John?”

“Of course.” John squeaked in reply and continued to the chair. The chair with the plastic. The plastic that stuck to your shoes in the way that John particularly hated.

Finally, following a short mental pep-talk, John was sitting comfortably in the chair with his head back on the headrest. ‘As comfortably as is possible in such a horrible contraption’ thought John. Sherlock, after snapping on his other glove and a surgical mask, swivelled round on his stool to face the chair and flipped a switch on the lamp above it causing a stream of bright white light to pour onto John’s face, temporarily blinding him. John could have sworn he heard the dentist let out a small chuckle at the shocked look on his face but by the time his vision had come back to him, the man beside him was facing the opposite direction and rummaging around for tools in a draw.

When he turned back, Sherlock was holding two long pieces of metal; one with a tiny mirror on the end and another with a creepy looking hook. John’s face must have shown his alarm because he soon felt a comforting pat on his left shoulder accompanied by, when he turned his head, a reassuring smile from Mrs Hudson. He faced forward again, trying, and failing, to avoid looking directly into the overhead lamp. On adjusting the lamp so the brightest part of the beam was aimed at John’s mouth, the dentist leaned forward and started to prod about in John’s mouth.

Now that the light above him wasn’t shining straight into his eyes and Sherlock's attention was elsewhere, John distracted himself from the unnerving jabbing taking place in his mouth by examining the face of the dentist. Of course, it was just as perfect as it was earlier. The only difference now was the slight wrinkle in the previously smooth skin on Sherlock’s forehead as he focused. He didn’t know why but, despite only half of the man’s face being visible, John found this look extraordinarily endearing on the other man. The creases extended, not only across his forehead, but to the top of his nose, crinkling the skin there too. John could entirely believe that, had there not been a surgical mask covering his mouth, he would have been able to see Sherlock's tongue poking out of his mouth to wet his lips in concentration.

John gazed at what he could see of Sherlock’s face right up to the moment that he was dragged out of his musing by the snap of the dentist’s gloves as he pulled them off and continued giving John an explanation that he hadn’t been aware he was receiving.

Gradually, John pulled himself to an upright position and managed to hear the end part of what Sherlock was saying.

“-decay on the tooth so you’ll need to come back in as soon as possible, tomorrow if it suits you, so we can get it out.”

John was startled.“Get it out?” he gasped, eyes wide.

“Yes.” Was the response that came. “Because of the decay... On the lower right third molar.” The adult-talking-to-a-child voice was back and it only served to make John more uncomfortable about the whole situation.

“Sherlock!” Mrs Hudson scolded, “Be nice to the poor man.”

“No, that’s fine." John insisted, "I should have listened better the first time round. There would have been no need for him to repeat himself.” John babbled, “So I’ll just go and make another appointment, then? For tomorrow?”

The reply was an incredibly sarcastic “Yes, that would be ideal.” and John could hear Mrs Hudson tutting at the dentist’s discourtesy.

“Well, thanks a lot. I suppose I'll see both of you again tomorrow?”  asked John, standing up from the reclined chair, the soles of his shoes squeaking unpleasantly on the plastic covering.

“Of course, John dear.” said Mrs Hudson with a friendly smile. All he got from Sherlock in the way of a goodbye was a little hum and a brief flap of his hand over his shoulder from where he was stood with his back to John on the other side of the chair.

As John walked back to the waiting room to make an appointment for the next day, he wondered if he’d done anything to offend to dark haired dentist. Aside from subconsciously ignoring everything he’d said in favour of studying his beautiful face that is. Aside from that. He decided that he might ask Sherlock when he came in for his appointment tomorrow. Tomorrow. John internally groaned at the thought of having to go through this entire experience for a second time in the same week. It would be even worse next time, though, because he was actually having a tooth out. Oh, John was dreading this already.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I have no idea what the actual title for a dentist is so I just went with Doctor... And I am getting any kind of dental knowledge included from personal experience or the internet so be kind.  
> Hope you liked it :D


	3. Chapter 3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm not sure about this chapter but it needed writing... I suck at writing speech so, as before, if you spot any mistakes, let me know. Enjoy :D

It was starting all over again. John had to go back to the dentist and this time to actually get the damned tooth out. At least the toothache would be gone. But at what cost? John’s sanity? Most likely. Going just the one time had been bad enough and now he had to mentally prepare himself to go back. The next day, no less, leaving him with only one night to talk himself out of it. Despite John’s hatred of the whole situation, there was one aspect of him return visit that he wouldn’t mind too much; getting to lie back and stare at Sherlock’s face for however long removing a tooth took. The combination of that, the thought of having no dull thud of pain in the back of his mouth and Stamford not nagging him about it anymore convinced John that he needed to go to this appointment.

“Ah, getting a tooth out isn’t that bad,” said Mike dismissively when John met him for lunch. “Jus’ need to get it over with. As long as you’ve got a decent dentist you’ll be fine.”

“I’ve got a good dentist alright...” Murmured John.

Stamford sniggered and gave him a knowing look, nudging John’s arm teasingly. John immediately regretted telling Stamford anything about his dentist. He’d been going on about setting John up with friends of his for months.

“Oh, shut up. I am not gay! I went on a date last weekend. With a woman!” bellowed John, obviously a little too loudly for the middle aged man on the table next to them who turned to give them both a dirty look.

Stamford chuckled and nodded his head in fake agreement. John sighed and knew that, once Mike got an idea in his head, nothing he could say would get rid of it so he may as well just accept his fate of Stamford and his matchmaking. He supposed there were worse things that he could be subjected to. Not much worse, though.

* * *

John was distracted for the rest of the day, mind jumping between thoughts of the torture of going back to the dentist’s surgery and the positive side of that point: Sherlock. Along with this, his tooth was more painful than normal today which only made his distraction worse, if that was possible. If he’d been at home, this would have had no real consequence but today, it being your average Wednesday, he was at work. And that meant that he had patients. Quite a lot today, actually. Just his luck for it to be busy on a day when he couldn’t focus. He was pretty sure that, this morning, he prescribed an elderly woman who’d come in about a chest infection medication that was intended for treatment of some kind of fungal nail but he couldn’t be sure.

It was a huge relief once he’d seen off his last patient of the day and was able to leave the surgery. Well, it was a relief up until John realised that his dentist’s appointment was in less than twenty minutes. He’d left himself very little psychological preparation time and he was probably going to be late.

* * *

After skipping several red lights and taking at least two wrong turns, John made it to the dentist’s surgery. He parked up outside and, before he could talk himself out of it, dashed in through the automatic door. He checked in with the receptionist who told him that Dr Holmes had taken in his next patient in as John hadn’t been there at the correct time. She told him that it would be about a ten minute wait and to take a seat.

Sitting in one of the lumpy blue chairs in the waiting room, John decided to read a newspaper from the table in the centre of the room. It was a few weeks old but he wanted something to fill the time with besides his frantic worrying so it would have to do.

He’d been sat for about five minutes when the door swung open. A young girl, probably about seven years old, bounced in carrying a book. She had sandy brown, wavy hair down to her waist, pale blue-green eyes, a pointed but somehow softly curving nose and a huge cheerful smile. She settled down on one of the chairs and began reading. This would have been completely normal had John not seen the cover of the book. It was written on advanced computer programming. It didn’t seem like a normal thing for a girl of that age to be reading but who was he to judge, John supposed. After all, how normal was it for a full grown man to be terrified of going to the dentist?

After a few more minutes, John’s name was called by that oddly familiar voice belonging to Dr Holmes and John was getting a strong sense of déjà vu. It couldn’t have just been yesterday when he first heard that voice, could it?

“Mr Watson? If you’d like to come with me.”

As John stood up, the girl sitting across the room looked at Sherlock eagerly and was met by a warm smile and a hushed ‘I’ll be done soon.’ She grinned back at him before returning to her book. John placed the newspaper back where he’d found it and followed Sherlock out of the waiting room.

There had been no conversation between the two men until the door to Sherlock’s room had been shut behind them.

The dentist was the first to break the silence.

“So, it’s not any better then?”

John was startled and thought for a moment that he was referring to Sherlock being on John’s mind constantly for the past twenty-four hours. The smaller man eyed the other warily. Was he that obvious?

“The tooth?” Sherlock offered, putting John out of his misery, “It’s no better today?”

“Oh, right.” John let out a sigh of relief. “No, not really. It’s worse today actually.” He admitted, making his way over to the chair. “Where’s Mrs Hudson today?”

“Unfortunately,” Sherlock began, clearly not all that concerned for his kindly assistant’s well-being, “she’s off sick. Some kind of vomiting virus? Just you and me today, John.”

John let out an uncomfortable cough, muttered something about ‘there being a lot of that around this time of year’ and tried to ignore the barely audible chortle coming from the dentist’s direction.

Leaning back in the chair and trying to relax, John made an attempt at casual conversation.

“The girl in the waiting room, is she your daughter?”

Sherlock’s hands stilled over the anaesthetic syringe he was preparing and John began to worry that he had said something wrong.

“No,” he replied without turning around. “My niece. I take care of her, though.”

“Oh, that’s nice.” Said John lamely, not wanting to intrude any further. After a second, he heard another small chortle and was glad to see that he hadn’t offended Sherlock in any way. He was just thinking that he really needed to find some way to make the situation in the room less awkward when the dentist swivelled around, syringe in hand. That’d do, John thought.

* * *

Once the anaesthetic was done, the whole experience of getting his tooth removed was a bit of a blur to John. This was partially because he was trying not to panic about the tugging he was sure he’d start to feel in his mouth and, of course, partially because he was watching the face of the man sat in the chair next to him. He tried to be subtle about it but his slightly anaesthetic-impaired vision was trying to tell him that there were two of Sherlock’s face in front of him. As you can imagine, this was especially interesting to John.

He was aware of an unpleasant pulling at the back of his gums and a voice talking about how much easier it was when the patient decided to sit still but had no real reaction. Then John got an odd sensation of falling and peeked around him to see that the chair he was sat in was being lowered back to the ground to allow him to hop off. As he did so, his step faltered a little but he thought he saved it nicely by grabbing hold of the doorframe next to him and leaning on it casually. It appeared that Sherlock had missed all of this as he only finished taking his nasty dentist gloves off and turned around once John was steady on his feet again and, for this, John was immensely grateful.

“You might be a little dizzy and, obviously, areas of your mouth will be numb for a while but it should wear off fairly quickly.” Sherlock spouted in a professional yet bored sounding voice.  He walked up to John and stood, looking expectantly at him, eyes flickering between his face and the door handle. John was not proud of the ten seconds that it took for him to realise that Sherlock was waiting to open the door.

“Clearly you’re already aware of some of the side effects.” Sherlock chuckled, holding the door for John to stumble through. John mumbled his thanks to the dentist, an embarrassed pink creeping onto his cheeks. The only thought on his mind was how he could get out of here as quickly as possible to save himself any further humiliation.

“Thanks for the, uh, tooth... I’ll see you next time, then?” John tried feebly.

“Yes, I’ll see you again, John.” Was the smooth response and with that, the beautiful man in front of him had disappeared back into his room and John was left alone to run over the disaster that had been the past ten minutes in his mind. All there was left to do was to hope that he never had any dental issues again so he need never come back.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Any feedback is welcome and I'll try to get the next chapter up soon-ish :)


	4. Chapter 4

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I wanted to get this chapter up tonight in honour of the dentist's appointment that I have tomorrow. It seemed fitting.  
> Just want to thank buckie_999 for inspiring me and helping me out when I got stuck like she always does. :* <3

If anyone ever asked, John would deny it immediately but he’d had those enthralling eyes floating through his mind for the past week. Mike had made a few comments about how unfocused he’d been at the pub quiz on Saturday night which had been promptly ignored by John. He wasn’t admitting to anything. The receptionist at the surgery had obviously also noticed something because he’d found his daydreams interrupted on more than one occasion by her coming in and waving an irritated hand in front of his face.

This all seemed a little ridiculous to John; he was a full grown man for goodness sake! You’d think he’d be over the teenage crush phase but clearly not. Of course, John was desperately hoping that Mike would never find out quite how long John had spent thinking about his dentist.

Wednesdays seemed to be the day that everyone got sick. John had double the number of appointments booked in today as he’d had yesterday and none of them had been particularly remarkable so far. Nothing even slightly interesting to be honest. That was up until he saw the name of his next patient. Helena Holmes.

John froze when he saw the name flash up on his computer screen. He tried to dismiss the section of his brain which told him that this was a Holmes from the same family as a certain dentist he knew. After all, Holmes wasn’t exactly a common name. He quickly checked the age of the girl and saw that she was seven years old. It occurred to John that this could be the girl from the waiting room at the dental surgery. Doctor Holmes had said it was his niece and she had looked to be about seven. John couldn’t see Sherlock having children of his own. He just hoped desperately that he wouldn’t have to face Doctor Holmes again after the disaster that had been his dentist’s appointment last week.

His 2pm appointment had been a short one so the doctor sat for a few minutes sorting through some neglected paperwork that was had been sat on the corner of his desk since the previous week. He then replaced the blue hygiene roll on the couch and straightened up all of the chairs in the room. When the clock in his room read 2.18 and it couldn’t be put off any longer, John grabbed his clipboard and made his way to the waiting room to call his next patient.

Eyes fixed on the clipboard held in his slightly trembling hands as though he needed reminding of the name printed at the top of the page, John pushed the door open and spoke in a clear voice.

“Helena Holmes?”

John’s eyes flickered up from his notes in time to see a young girl stand up from her seat in the far corner of the room. She looked vaguely familiar but John couldn’t quite place when he may have seen her before. Long, dark, straight hair fell across her face partially covering the astoundingly blue eyes which seemed to shine through the thin jet black strands. John’s thoughts were interrupted when he noticed an impatient whining coming from the direction of the girl and was surprised to see her tugging on the sleeve of a tall man wearing a long dark coat sat next to her who seemed to be engrossed in an article of a science magazine.

“Daddy! Come on, he’s calling us!”

John’s gaze followed along the girl’s tight grip on the cuff of the coat until it reached the face of the man the girl was calling Daddy. And, oh, did he wish he hadn’t looked. He was suddenly painfully aware of why he’d recognised the girl and it wasn’t because he’d seen her before. A pair of eyes that John had simultaneously wished never to see again and to see every single day locked onto his. His next patient was Sherlock Holmes’ daughter.

A small smirk graced Sherlock’s face as he rose from his seat to return the magazine to the shelf next to the entrance. He walked back to his daughter, took her hand and, together, they made their way through the door that John was holding open for them, seemingly unaware of quite how uncomfortable the doctor was. Sherlock followed closely behind John, child clinging to his arm until, mid-way down the hall, they reached a door that read ‘Dr Watson’.

“So, what can I help you with today?” said John cheerfully, trying to act as though he’d never met either of the people sitting in front of him before. Unfortunately, this was only possible if both parties cooperated and by the smirk still firmly in place on Sherlock’s face, John could tell that it wasn’t going to work out for him.

“You first, John.” Cut in Sherlock, “How are you after Wednesday? No pain I hope?”

“No, no. Just glad to have got the bloody thing out to be honest.” John replied with a feeble laugh, immediately regretting his choice of words when in the presence of a young child.

“Anyway,” John now spoke to Helena in an attempt to divert Sherlock’s attention away from himself, “enough about me, what can I do for you?”

Helena spoke quietly and a little croakily, “My throat’s been really sore since Monday and....” She trailed off and looked nervously to her father for reassurance. He quickly came to her rescue, explaining the rest of her symptoms.

“She’s also had a temperature, a headache on and off and hasn’t been eating much because she says it hurts to swallow. I thought it might be tonsillitis or perhaps pharyngitis?”

John nodded along to the list of symptoms. “Helena, would it be okay if I just took a quick look at your throat?” he asked gently. The girl reluctantly nodded her head and opened her mouth allowing the doctor to peer down her throat.

“Well, your tonsils do seem to be swollen and going by your symptoms, I’d say it’s either a bad bout of tonsillitis or strep throat. Lucky for you, they can both be treated with penicillin so I’ll prescribe you a liquid form of amoxicillin so that’ll just need to be taken three times a day until the course is finished. It is catching though, so just make sure you don’t share drinks or food with anyone for the next few days.”

“Thanks ever so much, John.” Said Sherlock sincerely, “And you, no sharing drinks with your sister.” He gently tapped Helena’s nose and the girl gave out a little giggle. John was a little surprised to hear that Sherlock had more than one daughter but he supposed the man was full of surprises. When he looked up, to see Helena silently communicating with Sherlock in a way that only parents and their children can.

“It would appear that that ship has already sailed.” Sherlock sighed, raising his eyebrows at John in defeat.

John had a thought. He couldn’t. He could. He did it anyway. “Well,” he picked up a card from his desk, handing it to Sherlock, “that’s my number, if, um - your niece, was it?  - seems to be coming down with something. I can get you some more penicillin.”  John offered. There. He had his number. His work number, mind, so it was perfectly acceptable. He was simply concerned for a patient’s health. He decided to skip over the fact that Sherlock’s niece wasn’t actually his patient. Patient by extension, maybe? Better safe than sorry either way.

After printing off a prescription and signing it, he handed the papers to Sherlock and directed him to the closest pharmacy so that they could pick up Helena’s medication.

“Thanks so much, John. I’ll see you again.” Said Sherlock smoothly, leading his shy daughter out of the door.

“Thank you. And yes, I suppose...” he trailed off, now left alone in the doorway of his room.

So that was it, they were gone. John thought it unlikely that he’d receive a call. The chances of tonsillitis or strep throat spreading simply by sharing food or drink was fairly slim after all and what other reason would any member of the Holmes family have for calling him? Nothing he could think of that seemed rational.

Of course, that view changed when John received a phone call the following afternoon.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I hope it was okay and please do leave feedback if anything jumps out at you so I can make it better. :)


	5. Chapter 5

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So, here's the next chapter :) Sorry it took so long to get up but I've been busy with school work. As always, any mistakes or suggestions let me know :D And, of course, enjoy. x

John had just finished with his 2.30 appointment when the phone in his office rang. He didn’t think he’d been expecting a call and it was fairly unusual for someone to call his phone directly. Picking the phone up and wedging it between his ear and shoulder, he answered it with a casual ‘Hello’ and carried on sorting his papers into a file on his desk. He nearly dropped the phone when a small, familiar voice reached his ear.

“Hello?” the voice was a little croaky and John knew immediately where he’d heard it before. “Is that Doctor John?”

It was Helena. He hadn’t heard the girl’s voice very much during her appointment but he was sure that it was her on the other end of the line.

Just to be sure, John had to double-check that he hadn’t misplaced the voice, “Yes, it is. Is that Helena?”

A little noise of confirmation. She had been shy when John had seen her yesterday after all.

“How’s your throat doing? Is that why you’re calling, has it got worse?”

“It hurts less today than it did yesterday.” Said Helena and John became confused as to why he’s receiving calls from seven year olds in the middle of the afternoon if not for medical reasons.

“So, what can I help you with then?” asks John carefully. On the one hand, he didn’t want to make it seem as though he didn’t want to talk to the girl but on the other, she hadn’t given him much to work on and he had another appointment at 3 o’clock.

“Well...” Helena trailed off, “I was wondering if maybe... If maybe-  You wanted to come to the park with me, Rosie and Daddy on Saturday?”

That had been unexpected. John had thought that he may get a call to say that Sherlock’s niece had caught the same infection that Helena had had. Maybe one asking for more medication. Nothing like this.

John realised that he’d left the girl without any kind of response. “Have you asked your Dad about this?” he enquired, being the sensible adult.

“Yes, I’ve asked him. I think he’d really like it if you came. He hasn’t smiled very much since Mummy died. He smiled when he talked about you.”

John was speechless. Since Mummy died? Sherlock’s wife? Helena was only seven and she’d already lost a parent. It was no wonder she might be a bit quiet.  And Sherlock had lost a wife. Recently by the sound of it. John could understand now why the dentist may have been short with him at times. He couldn’t imagine how hard it must be to lose someone so close to you.

Another thing that stood out to John was that Sherlock had gone home and spoken about him. And smiled while he had done it. He’d made Sherlock smile without even being there. He felt a strange sense of pride that he couldn’t quite understand upon finding that out. Maybe he hadn’t come appeared as dopey and dim witted as he thought he had.

“Daddy said about 11 o’clock on Saturday at the park near the doctor’s. Will you come?” continued the girl, seemingly unaware of the stunned man she was talking to.

“Well, I suppose if it’s okay with your Dad.” Replied John slowly, not seeming a way that he could easily say no.

This appeared, by the way Helena squealed a little in excitement when John had finished speaking, to be the response she was looking for.

Once Helena had hung up, John took the time to think over ways in which he could avoid embarrassing himself in front of a beautiful man such as Sherlock Holmes. At least there wouldn’t be any anaesthetic involved this time so the risk of falling over his own feet may be decreased somewhat, he thought.

* * *

Friday came and went and, soon enough, 11 am on Saturday was creeping up on John. He’d had to go into work to drop off a few papers he’d finished at home and he was now walking to the park. It was only about a five minute walk. Glancing at his watch, he saw that it was 10.49. He was early. Better that than late, he supposed.

John decided to wait outside the playground section of the park so as to avoid getting any strange looks for sitting inside the area without any obvious reason to be there. He found a bench and settled down to check his emails on his phone for the ten minutes he had until Sherlock and the kids would arrive.

He lifted his head from his slouched position a short while later to see a tall figure with two smaller ones on either side approaching. Judging by the cluster of dark hair that could be seen on the head of the taller figure, John thought that it must be Sherlock. Instead of the white dentist’s coat or suit jacket he’d been wearing  the times they had previously met, Sherlock was wearing a long dark coat. It seemed to float out behind him slightly in the light breeze across the park and he walked or maybe John was just being overly poetic.

Before he knew it, the figures were getting close to the gate to the play area and a high-pitched voice could be heard. John thought he recognised his name somewhere in the shrill noise and realised that Helena was stood pointing at him. Sherlock’s eyes followed the direction that his daughter was pointing in and, as his gaze reached the man stood before him, his eyebrows seemed to disappear up into his hair and far more of those striking eyes became visible to John.

“John!” Sherlock was clearly surprised. That didn’t seem like a good sign.

John shuffled his feet awkwardly, starting to regret coming at all.

“You say that like you weren’t expecting to see me.” He joked feebly, desperately hoping that they hadn’t both been tricked into coming to the park by a seven year old girl.

Sherlock suspiciously eyed the two girls at his sides who, once they realised that Sherlock had worked out their scheme, ran off to the playground giggling.

“You weren’t expecting to see me, then?” asked John.

“Not as soon as this, no.” replied the taller man, “It would seem that Helena and Rosanna had different ideas though.”

John nodded, a small smile sneaking onto his face at the deep chuckle coming from Sherlock.

“Looks like we’ve been played by two under tens.” He snorted. “They’re smarter than you might imagine and Helena especially can be incredibly manipulative when it works to her benefit.”

“Wherever could she get that from?” teased John.

Another chuckle from the taller man. “Oh, I couldn’t say.”

* * *

“So you walk here every Saturday?” The two men were sat at the bench beside the play area.

“Yes.” said Sherlock, “We go swimming first and sometimes come by the playground on the way home. All taken into account as part of Helena’s plan I suppose.”

John couldn’t quite picture Sherlock playing with children in a swimming pool. But then again, he did seem to be full of surprises. John hadn’t imagined that he would have any children let alone be looking after two young girls.

After a few minutes of the two of them making conversation, Helena came running out to the bench and grabbed Sherlock by the hand, dragging him in the direction of the swings. Sherlock threw a quick apologetic glance over his shoulder before allowing himself to be pulled off towards the gates to the playground. John followed hesitantly after, and joined them at the swing set where Helena and Rosanna were arguing over who could swing the highest.

“Dad! Push me too!” cried Rosanna.

John watched, amused when Sherlock then attempted to push both girls at the same time. It seemed to be working until the swings got slightly out of time and he was having to duck away from one swing coming towards his head while trying to push the other.

The man in the long coat stepped away from the swings in defeat. “I can’t push both of you at the same time.” He sighed.

“Doctor John can push Rosie!” Helena called out, legs flailing wildly in an attempt to propel herself further into the air.

“Um, of- of course.” Stuttered John, looking to Sherlock, “Is that okay?”

Sherlock gave the doctor a nod and a warm smile and John walked over to the swings and began to push the lighter haired girl on the swing.

“Hold on tight!” cried Sherlock and he gave Helena’s swing an almighty push and she squealed in delight, clinging tightly onto the chains on either side of her.

* * *

They played on the swings until John and Sherlock’s arms got tired, moved onto the roundabout until both girls were dizzy enough to be barely able to stay standing and spent a few minutes on the climbing frame where John discovered that Sherlock was unexpectedly good at the monkey bars.

After they’d all agreed that it was time to go, Rosanna turned to John.

“Could you come back to our house for lunch, Doctor John?” she was looking up at him with hopeful eyes.

“Yeah, can you?” cried Helena.

John looked at Sherlock, eyes wide, unsure of what to say.

“Come on, girls. Don’t bother John about this. He’s probably got hundreds of other far more interesting things to be doing with his afternoon than having lunch with us.” Said Sherlock, looking to John for a reaction. “Of course, if he wanted to come, he’d be most welcome.”

Now John was more unsure than ever. He had nothing else to do today and the girls seemed to have grown to like him. Couldn’t hurt, could it?

“Well, I don’t have anything on today-”

“So you can?” interrupted Helena, excitedly.

The doctor smiled, “If it’s no trouble then I’d love to.”

“You could never be any trouble, John.” Said Sherlock quietly. John may or may not have imagined it but after saying that, Sherlock seemed to look quickly away and his face flushed slightly, almost unnoticeably.

So it looked like John was going for lunch with the Holmes family. Who would have thought it.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm not sure how long the next part will take to write because I have exams coming up but I'll write whenever I can. :) Also, I'm having a little trouble in deciding where the next few chapters can go so if you have any ideas please do let me know. :D  
> Hope you enjoyed. x


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